


Strung Up

by Torched22



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: BDSM, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kidnapping, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 08:49:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21335503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Torched22/pseuds/Torched22
Summary: Malcolm refuses to initiate intimacy. He's locked himself away from sex and vulnerability because his own fantasies scare him, but everything’s about to change.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/Dani Powell, Malcolm Bright/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 73





	1. Chapter 1

Malcolm's head ached. He groaned back to life, lips parting to suck in a breath, eyes flying open. His brain frantically reached for its last memory. 

He and the team were looking for a murderer and they had found him. He was a twisted bastard, not even remotely empathetic. 

Malcolm twisted and realized that his hands were cuffed above his head. He had no shirt on. 

"Look who's finally awake," a familiar voice said. 

Malcolm's vision realigned itself and the tall blob wearing black came into focus. 

"John," Malcolm rasped. 

It was a man in his late forties that Malcolm had met a week ago. The team had looked at him for the murders since two of his patients were killed. Suspicious. But it turned out, it was a nurse at the hospital who was the psycho, not the cardiologist who stood before him. 

And yet..here he was... 

"What are you doing? Why am I here?" Malcolm asked, too calmly for a situation like this. 

At the start of the case, Malcolm had profiled the likely killer and that's how he knew it wasn't Dr. John Crane. What he hadn't taken the time to do - was profile the cardiologist. Now, he wish he had. 

"When I met you Malcolm...I felt a pull towards you," the tall man with curly black hair said. "I could sense your suffering, among other things." 

"What are you a fortune teller?" Malcolm said incredulously. 

"No...just a smart man," he walked around Malcolm and lightly brushed his fingers over Malcolm's bare ribcage. A pleasant shudder ran through Bright's body. "I could tell that there was an attraction between us." 

"And this is how you do dating?" 

"Ha, no," he huffed a laugh. "How do I put this?" he rubbed at his face, pausing to give his next words careful thought. "I have no desire to hurt you Malcolm. Quite the opposite." 

"The knocking me unconscious and chains give off a different vibe." 

"I didn't knock you unconscious, I drugged you. I realize how this must look. But I know a desperate sub when I see one." 

Malcolm's stomach did a flip or two. "A sub?" 

"Someone who needs to be dominated." 

His heart picked up. 

"I knew four things upon meeting you," the doctor offered. "One: there was an attraction between us. Two: You were suffering. Three: You are a sub. And four: I'm guessing you haven't been touched in a very long time." 

Malcolm swallowed, "I thought I was the profiler." 

"You are," John offered, "and I refuse to do anything against your will. I want you to be here of your own volition. I want you to take part in this because you want to. So if you ask me to let you go, I will - immediately." 

"Great...let me go," Malcolm said without hesitation. 

Disappointment flashed over the MD's face as he stepped forward with the keys. He reached up and undid Malcolm's hands. The profiler brought his arms down and rubbed at his wrists. 

"We're in an apartment in the Bronx," the doctor said, "I can call you a cab if you'd like." 

"You kidnapped me," Malcolm said, feeling the air against his exposed chest. Feeling vulnerable. 

"I did," the man admitted. "A week ago, I asked you if you'd be willing to go on an adventure..." 

"...to catch the killer, yes. Not to play sex dungeon with you." 

"I apologize, I must have misread the situation." 

"I'd say." 

John stepped forward, encroaching upon Malcolm's space, but not in a menacing way. He tilted his head and brought his mouth close. Malcolm's eyes went wide. He could feel the electric current between he and this man. 

"I may not be your therapist," Dr. Crane said, "but I know what you want." 

"Do you?" Malcolm countered. 

"I think that you don't let anyone touch you in a sexual way. I'd bet that you haven't had sex since college." 

Malcolm's ears grew hot. The doc was spot on. 

"You cut yourself," John changed the subject, reaching out a hand and turning Malcolm's arm over. Little healed lines lined up neatly up his arm. He didn't even have to do that, there were cuts all over his chest as well. But the contact sent a jolt through the young man's body. 

"You've been traumatized. I don't know how...but I think that trauma's eating you alive. You look like you haven't slept. You look desperate for the human touch that you don't feel deserving of." 

"Stop it." 

"Why? Because I'm right? I could take care of you Malcolm. There are few perversions that I can't handle." 

"What if...what if I was attracted to you because you're a doctor...because you remind me of..."

"Who?" The older man's eyes glittered green.

The thought alone made Malcolm's stomach churn. He wasn't sure he could say it aloud. He had Daddy issues for days. He longed for the solidity, the comfort, the love that he used to know...before he knew Martin Whitley was a monster. Just for thinking this, he was a monster too.

"I can't say it," Malcolm hung his head. "I'm a sick bastard."

"Tell me," John implored. "Who do I remind you of?"

Best to just tell him, Malcolm thought. He'll be so disgusted that he'll lose all interest in me. 

"In some ways...you remind me of...of my...f- father."

John didn't look disgusted, he looked amused. "Oh, Malcolm...that's your perversion? Wanting to fuck daddy? I'd guess that Daddy hurt you didn't he? He was absent...his love fell short..."

"I didn't say I wanted to fuck him," Malcolm's face was flushed red.

"It's okay Malcolm...you're not going to scare me away."

"Even if I want...dark things?"

"Like what?"

"Like chains and choking and my own blood...?" He couldn't believe he had just spoken aloud his darkest fantasies...things that not a soul knew...

"I'm a doctor Malcolm, I am perfectly comfortable with all of that."

Malcolm was hard and growing harder by the second. It was easy to be the profiler, but much harder to endure being profiled. Easy to hear vulnerability and much harder to offer it.

Still, Malcolm struggled with an internal debate. He bit his bottom lip as his brain processed.

"I'm...I'm not..." he wanted to say gay...but would it be a lie? Yes. He was at least bi. 

"I don't think you know what you are," John said without malice. "I think you're lost." The doctor was caressing his arm, thumb running over the healed cuts.

"You don't want to kill me? To hurt me?" Malcolm questioned again for good measure. He was a human lie detector...he'd know the answer to the question if John attempted a lie. 

"No," he chuckled. "I want to make you feel good. Give you what you're too afraid to ask others for. I told you...I can handle a lot," John soothed a hand over the side of Malcolm's face and he turned into it. 

Malcolm leaned forward, parted his mouth and let John move the rest of the way. The doctor was three inches taller than him, broad with muscle, gray peppered into his curly jet black hair. He tasted of bourbon and coffee. The kiss was soft at first, an exploration. Then it morphed into something stronger. The doctor took charge and something unfurled in Malcolm's chest. He felt...peace. 

They finally broke apart. 

"And if I say stop. If I want out at any point..." 

"Then we stop and I let you out," John answered. Malcolm's hand was on the other man's heart. There was no sign of deception. 

Malcolm took a breath and nodded. 

"Chain me back up," he said, adrenaline coursing through his body. 


	2. Chapter 2

Malcolm vibrated with anticipation. He could scarcely believe the turn of events. He was in an industrially styled loft in the Bronx, hands being re-chained above his head, about to have sex for the first time in a decade with a man...a man who had kidnapped him. 

The notion was so absurd that he couldn't help but chuckle. 

John stopped for a moment and gave him a hard, but lust-fueled look. His chiseled features said that there was nothing funny about this situation. "We're going to start now Malcolm," he said, running a hand over Bright's face. "Do you have any hard limits? Things you don't want me to do?" 

The young man thought about it for a second before taking a breath and saying, "no." 

"So I can slap you? I can choke you? I can make little cuts like these?" he traced a long scar over Malcolm's ribcage with his index finger.

A heady rush of arousal flooded Malcolm. "Yes...please." 

"But what if my cuts don't align as pretty as the ones you already have?" 

He had a point. Malcolm had turned his skin into a puzzle piece of geometric mastery over the past fifteen years. Each blow life had dealt him would turn into a scar. Those scars started at the top of his bicep and ran along the length of his arms. They lived on the inside and outside of his arms above the elbow, and just on the insides of his arms below the elbow. They started beneath his pecs, at the height of his abs, and travelled south, stopping at the rectus abdominis. They travelled along his thighs and down his calves. If anyone knew about these...Gil...his mother...The Surgeon...

"Earth to Malcolm," John cut into his thoughts. "Am I boring you here?"

"NO...no," he said a little too forcefully at first. "You can cut anywhere, it's okay...I don't care."

John nodded, his skilled fingers moving to his tie to undo it. Malcolm's eyes were caught there, at the knot. The tie was blood red.

"Could...could you keep it on? The suit I mean?" Malcolm asked, wondering if he sounded absurd. John just found it endearing and grinned. "How'd I know you'd be a pushy bottom..." he slid the knot back up tighter. "Okay then, first I'd like to remove your pants and boxers since that's all you've got left." Malcolm nodded his consent. John's teeth were pure white and glinted in the dim lighting as he smiled a shark's grin. "This is going to be fun." His skilled fingers undid the buttons then slid down the zipper. The sound echoed in the large space. He rubbed Malcolm through his underwear, lingering on the considerable wet spot at the tip of the young man's cock. The subject of his attentions only squirmed and moaned. 

"Good. You're vocal. I want you to see everything and I want to hear your feedback. When I steal your breath, I want to do it with my hands," he explained. "If I do something you don't like, tell me. You say stop and we'll stop. I want to - and I will - dominate you, but I also want to take care of you."

Malcolm was so hard that it hurt. 

"Are your arms alright?" 

Malcolm nodded.

"Any numbness?" 

"No."

"Good," he raked his nails down Malcolm's arms leaving goosebumps in his wake.

The doctor stepped even closer and Malcolm took a breath in. John's head was down, a smile creeping across his face as he admired the straining cock in his view. "So big," the man said, bringing his large hand to wrap around Malcolm's cock. A groan leapt from Malcolm's throat. "Tsk, tsk, such a shame to let such a lovely cock go unused for so long...how long is it? Seven inches? Eight?" 

"Seven," he gritted out, squirming in the shackles. 

"I noticed something interesting when I first brought you in here and strung you up..."

"What?" 

"You had bruises on your wrists already." 

"Oh," he swallowed. "Yeah, I sleep in restraints. Night terrors." 

"Ah...so you feel safe in restraints?" 

"Yes." 

Good. The doctor languidly stroked the cock as it leaked. As he did, Malcolm kept eyeing the tent in John's trousers. The doctor caught Malcolm's eyes. "Would you like to see my cock Malcolm? See what's going to be buried inside of you?" 

"Hngg...yes..." his brain threatened to turn to liquid and spill right out of his ears. 

John slowly opened his pants and pulled out his cock. It looked similar to Malcolm's except that it was paler and thicker. "Do you want me inside of you Malcolm?" 

"Yes."

"Yes what?" 

"Yes...I want to feel you inside of me...doctor."

"Good," he purred. He then walked away. Malcolm squirmed in his absence. It seemed as though an eternity passed as Malcolm waited. Finally, John returned with a scalpel, turning it expertly in his hands...admiring it...just as his father had during the lockdown. "I'm going to cut you now Malcolm," he warned. "Nothing deep, but it'll be good." He stood in front of Malcolm and threw him for a loop - gripping the back of his head with his left hand and kissing him hard. The young man returned the enthusiasm. Nipping and tasting, licking and exploring. Malcolm was so turned on that he bucked his hips against nothing. And then John slowed the kiss, stopped it. His left hand moved to steady Malcolm's hips. He turned the blade and it glistened in the dim light. He steadied it in his hand and began cutting him, horizontally above Bright's pubic hair. It was about three inches long and it was enough to start a steady drip of blood onto the root of the young man's cock, which John scooped up and used to jerk him off.

Malcolm never knew sex could be so good. He smelled the heady metallic scent and his mouth parted. His brain tried to cut to flashes of his father and he refused it. The doctor must have sensed that he was struggling, so he knelt and stared up at Malcolm, letting the blood drip from the cock to his face. Then he opened his mouth, taking the tip of Malcolm's cock in his mouth, teasing and sucking before swallowing him down.

Heat like the sun ripped through Malcolm's body. It was embarrassing how quickly he was coming undone.

"I'm...going to come..." he warned breathlessly. John only doubled his efforts until the cock was hitting the back of his throat and Malcolm shook as he shot down the doctor's throat. He came and came and John swallowed and swallowed. When he was done, the doctor stood, blood dripping from his mouth. 

"Would you like to taste your blood and come on my tongue?" he asked. Another hit of arousal swept through Malcolm. 

"Ye-" The doctor cut him off with a kiss. Malcolm's body was hurtling towards getting hard again. He tasted himself on the doctor's tongue. He relished the tang of the blood, the salt of his orgasm. They kissed until the tastes were gone. 

When the kiss broke, the doctor grasped the nape of his neck, got close and whispered in his ear..."I'm going to spread you open and fuck you now Malcolm." 

The young man whined in response, drunk with lust. 

"I'll choke the breath from you as you start to spurt come - bringing you right to the brink." 

Malcolm's chains clanked as he squirmed, almost out of his mind with anticipation. The doctor caressed his face, leaving smears of blood there to mar the perfection of his angled features, then pulled away and reached into his pocket, pulling out a condom. Malcolm's expression shifted. "Don't use a condom." 

John grinned, flipped the prophylactic between his fingers, staring at it, then Malcolm, and returning it to his pocket. 

"You can make suggestions Malcolm, but you don't give orders," John stated darkly, coming close...and then there was a blur. The sound of flesh on flesh. He had slapped Malcolm. The young man's cheek stung and his cock rose again. Then, as if to make up for the harshness of the punishment, John kissed him so roughly that he split Malcolm's lip with his teeth and blood filled his mouth. It dribbled down Malcolm's chin when the older man stepped back. 

"Don't you think it's important to be safe?" The doctor asked, licking away the blood. But it wasn't a question, not really. 

"You ingested my blood," Malcolm stated. "I'm sure you already have my medical file. You know I'm clean, that's why you did it. And you're a doctor, I trust that you're clean." 

"Is that really why you want me to not use a condom? Because I'm clean?"

A challenge.

"No...it's because I - I want to feel your cock pulse inside of me, your hot come filling me, dripping out of me" he finished in a whisper - eyes downcast - cheeks on fire. 

"Good boy," John said. Those words - those very specific words - twisting something deep in Malcolm's chest. He moaned unbidden, his eyes snapping shut, head going back as his cock leaked, dripping precum on the concrete floor.

"You like that don't you? Me calling you boy? 

"Y - yes," Malcolm's voice cracked. His body shook. 

"Is that what daddy calls you?" 

Malcolm couldn't even look him in the eye. The Surgeon's face burned into his mind's eye. The voice changing to match that of the prisoner.

"That's a definite yes," he said to himself with a shit eating grin. Malcolm didn't tell him that his pet name was actually, "my boy." "I'm going to open you up now," the doctor smiled. 

"Op - open me?" Malcolm questioned.

"Ah yes, you've never fucked a man have you? Have you been waiting for my cock? For someone who understands all your darkness? Or am I just a stand-in for daddy? Either way..." 

Malcolm's hands were balled into fists, the nails digging into his palms. 

"I have to stretch your ass before I stuff it with my cock," the doctor's voice drifted. He went to kneel behind Malcolm. One lubed finger rubbed over his hole. After some teasing, he pushed the digit inside. Malcolm thought it felt foreign, but good, and he pushed back against it.

"Such a good little whore," John said admiringly. Malcolm was surprised that he enjoyed being degraded. The doctor played around a little before adding another digit. His left hand played with Malcolm's balls as his right did the stretching. In no time, Malcolm was wriggling and asking for more. 

"You're doing so well Mal," he said as he added a third finger. 

His nickname. It felt so personal, so warm on John's lips. He let out another moan and thrust back, forcing John's fingers to hit his prostate. The doctor had been avoiding it because Malcolm was already so blissed out...he didn't want the young man to come so soon. Malcolm howled, a tear or two falling down his cheeks, tracking through the blood. 

"Ung...uh...more...I'm ready. Please. Your cock," his sentences were broken, but for the first time, he didn't feel broken.

John stood behind Malcolm, his clothes tickling the unblemished back. No wonder his back was spotless, Malcolm couldn't reach it to cut it. It was just a large expanse of milky smooth skin. John was kissing up his spine, then down it, then he stood and began biting at the back of Malcolm's neck, pulling his hair roughly. 

"Please..." Malcolm begged. 

"How do you feel Bright?" 

"Empty. I need you. And...and it's not Bright. It's...Whitly...Malcolm Whitly." 

The hand in his hair and the hand kneading his ass stopped for a moment. 

"Your father is The Surgeon," he said with dawning understanding. 

Shit. What if he stopped now? What if this pushed him away? This was the first time Malcolm had sex in ten years. His ass was ready and waiting. 

Luckily, the revelation didn't push the doctor away. Instead, after a moment, he crowded closer, his hands coming around to Malcolm's chest, his cock. "Oh, Malcolm," he said with sadness and gravitas. He spoke the words like an apology. 

Tears gathered at Malcolm's eyes and he never realized that three syllables had the power to make him cry. His own name. 

John's fingers clawed at Bright's chest, playing with his nipples, then brushing the drying blood from Malcolm's hard cock. The harshness of John's actions temporarily turned sweet.

"Malcolm Whitly," John whispered his lovers name in his own ear, making Malcolm's skin erupt in goosebumps. He spoke his name with reverence and weight and lust. Malcolm was panting now, prepared to utter another plea, to beg, when he finally felt the head of John's cock nudge his open hole. His mouth formed a wordless, 'o' as the doctor pushed his well lubed cock into the narrow channel. He began fucking slowly, and then with earnest. In. hitting his prostate. Out, in, out, over and over. He was so deep. Malcolm felt the tingle all the way up his spine. 

The profiler shook in his chains, sobbed with pleasure, clenching down around John, who then spilled an ocean of curses and compliments. "You're so good Malcolm, so tight and hot my boy." 

There it was. "My boy."

"I- I'm...going to..." 

John cut him off, wrapping strong hands around his neck to squeeze the air from him. 

Malcolm started to come, the world tilting as his vision went dark at the corners. He came harder than he ever had in his entire life - his own blood and come on his lips - having been called "my boy," - arms strung up - blood dripping from his spurting cock that he couldn't even touch. As he emptied himself on the concrete floor, John stopped strangling him and pumped the rest of his come from him. 

When Malcolm was spent, dangling from the ceiling in blissed out ecstasy, the doctor's hands held onto his ragdoll form as he fucked him hard and began to come inside of the younger man with a shout. 

Then there was a sound. A loud one. A sound that didn't belong. The front door was kicked open and light spilled in from the hallway. 

Malcolm's chains were shaking as he was continuing to be fucked. He saw two familiar forms and the one in front was shouting, his gun drawn. 

"STOP," a familiar voice screamed. It was Gil. Dani was behind him, her mouth agape and eyes wide. 

"I said STOP!," Gil screamed even louder. 

It took a moment for Malcolm's brain to catch up with what was going on." 

"Don't shoot!" Malcolm screamed at Gil. He couldn't see the doctor behind him, hands up, stepping out from behind him, but he did feel the coming cock slip from his used hole. 

Gil's hands were shaking and murder was in his eyes. 

"I asked him to do this," Malcolm said, the words feeling foreign on his tongue. 

A flash of doubt crossed Gil's face. He dropped his gun a few centimeters then brought it back up. "No...no."

"I did, I swear," Malcolm pleaded. "Put the guns down." 

"I'll...undo the cuffs now...okay?" John said, hands still up. 

No one moved. Silence. Then...

Gil nodded reluctantly, gun still trained on John. Dani had lowered her weapon. 

John reached up and undid the cuffs. Unfortunately, Malcolm had no strength left. He fell in a heap of bones against John, slumping to the ground. Gil holstered his weapon and ran towards them. Dani knelt by Malcolm's side. 

"Please Gil...I...I asked John to...to do this."

Gil shook his head, 'no,' still in disbelief. "But we got a report of someone seeing him take you from your apartment. You weren't conscious." 

"I know...I know..." Malcolm placated, his hands out. "It's okay. I asked for this. Consented." Dani breathed a sigh of relief. She moved to stand, but Malcolm's hand stopped her. Tears ran down his face. He looked at Gil and Dani with pleading in his eyes. "I'm so fucked up...I...I know," he sobbed. "Please, I can't lose you guys..."

Dani shook her head. "We're not going anywhere Malcolm. And you're not fucked up..."

"Yes I am," he said, feebly pushing himself up on his tingling arms. John was a steadying wall behind him, kneeling. "I am..." Malcolm insisted, the tears still falling. 

Dani ran a hand through his hair and he closed his eyes. He could feel the weight of those three gazes upon his naked body and he began to grow hard again. His face grew red with embarrassment. He didn't even know it was possible to get hard three times, this fast, at 32. But he was sex starved and his emotions were running so high. He moved to put a hand over his cock. 

Dani's hand moved from his hair, down his face, onto his chest, running down it, over all the scars. Her eyes were wet, lips parted. She was looking at him - at his marks - with such wonder. Her hand skated lower and lower, the edge of her palm hitting his cock head, and his eyes rolled back with pleasure as he shut them. His breathing was fast, heart beating erratically. 

"You like her," John said in a matter-of-fact way. No jealousy, no wonder, just a statement. Malcolm's face was beet red. He looked up at Gil, guiltily, who just stood, watching, his eyes hooded. 

The four of them had entered some bizarre alternate reality. Dani was brushing his hand aside, telling him not to hide, and he quietly groaned. "I can't...can't come anymore..." 

She was wiping away the dried come and blood from the area around his cock, then his thigh. Her hand went to the cut John made above his pubic hair, her thumb swiping it as if she could heal it. Something deep and large purred inside of his soul and it scared him.

"We need to get you home. Get you cleaned up," she said, snapping herself from her own trance. Gil's mouth was open, he was breathing hard, his hands clasped in front of him. 

He finally spoke.

"I apologize for your door...we'll replace it..."

"No need," John said. "I understand how this looked." 

Dani was helping Malcolm to stand. He stumbled a bit and she caught him. Gil retrieved his pants and underwear and John brought him a shirt. Malcolm dressed quietly and the four of them headed towards the front door. 

Malcolm stopped, looking at John who was a step behind him. "We should give them a minute," Dani suggested, but Gil's jaw was tight. He had no intention of leaving. He scowled at John. No one moved. 

Bright's mouth opened, so many words waiting there, but he couldn't pick them out. John just stepped forward, putting a strong hand on Malcolm's bloodied chin and kissed him. Hard. 

Then the trio left. Into the bright hall. Down the elevator. Into the squad car. Malcolm got into the back, silent tears running down his face, deafening silence filling the cab. He would take a larger, shakier breath every now and then and Gil looked at him in the rear view mirror. Malcolm met his eyes and was surprised to see no hatred or pity in them. 

Finally, they pulled up to the curb at Malcolm's apartment. 

"I'm going to stay with him for a bit," Dani said to Gil and Gil just nodded. She got out, stepping into the frigid fall air, and helped Malcolm get out. They walked upstairs in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

Malcolm’s body felt sated but his mind throbbed with the implications of what had just happened. His apartment felt achingly empty and infinitely vast. He could feel the weight of Dani’s presence behind him as if her gravitational pull was a tangible entity threatening to pull him in. 

She closed the door behind them and locked it. “Come sit,” she instructed, walking towards his kitchen without hesitation, not even giving him time to panic about the possibility of awkward silence. 

What should he say? 

What could he say?

Panic swelled in his chest, but Dani seemed to be oblivious to it. Thank god for the small mercies. 

She went to his fridge and opened it, retrieving a bottle of Ensure from the six pack that Malcolm kept there for when his body demanded he give it something. Anything. And threatened to pass out otherwise.

He sat down, forgetting what his ass had been through earlier. A squeak leapt from his throat as he sat without consideration. It drew her eyes to him and he darted his glance away as she blushed.

“You don’t have to take care of me you know,” he offered weakly, hoping that his words carried with them his gratitude that she was. 

“I know,” was all she gave back.

She twisted the lid off and handed it to Malcolm across the island. It was a good thing she did. He wasn’t sure he had even enough strength to unscrew the cap. He stared at it with a grimace but knew that his depleted system needed it. Closing his nose (without the use of his fingers) he swallowed quickly. 

“Woah,” slow down there,” her hand reached out, fingers tipping the back of the bottle downwards to get him to stop. 

Good idea. 

He could feel the liquid slipping coldly down his throat and landing heavily in his empty stomach. Licking his lips, he set the bottle down. 

“Dani...I’m so sorry…” 

“Bright,” she tried to cut him off, but failed. 

“No, I mean...you and Gil thought I was kidnapped. I probably scared you guys to death. I never meant to…” he brought his hands to rest on the cold countertop, fingers interlaced so tightly that his knuckles were white. “And then, what you saw…” 

“Bright,” she said his name more forcefully this time, snapping him to a stop. “I’m not judging you for what I saw...and I can handle a scare.”   
Her words were soothing, but he still hung his head in shame. “You should be judging me,” he breathed. God, what would she think if she knew why he was so attracted to John? Shame bubbled beneath Malcolm’s skin, making it feel several sizes too small. He wanted to crawl out of himself. Maybe stand far enough away that he could look back and understand why...why a facsimile of his father is what brought him to the height of his pleasure. 

The Ensure threatened to rise in his throat. 

“Come on,” she appeared at his side. 

He looked up at her, surprised. “What? To where?” 

“The bathroom,” she held Bright loosely under his right elbow, urging him to get up. He did as he was told. Slowly, they crossed his loft and headed for the bathroom. ‘This was certainly an odd turn of events,’ Malcolm thought to himself. 

He scars Dani for life and she - what? Is there for his aftercare? His brain struggled to make sense of these unfolding events. Friendship was not something he had an abundance of experience with, but he knew that most people would turn tail and run after what she’d just gone through. That or be disgusted. Or furious. But she was just...quietly graceful. Soothingly accepting. Confusingly supportive. 

It made his heart twist and ache. 

The pair entered the bathroom, her hand moving to click on the light. Malcolm hated how exposed he felt beneath the clean white bulbs. “Do you have a First Aid kit?” she asked.

Ah...right...the cut. He stared down at his own abdomen, noting how his blood had tinted the waistband of his gray slacks. “Under the sink,” he nodded towards the cabinet. 

She retrieved the kit, popping it open and examining what she had to work with. Behind her, Malcolm had moved. He was waiting patiently with his back against an opposite wall, his eyes fixed not on her but on the shower. 

“Do you want to take a shower?” 

“Ah, sounds nice but…”

“But what?” 

“I don’t think I have enough strength,” he admitted. 

“Well,” she breathed, “what about a bath?” 

Malcolm considered it, biting his upper lip as he eyed the empty tub. The thought of sinking into warm water did sound quite nice, especially after being strung up. Plus, he felt desperate to get clean.

“A bath it is,” Dani determined for him. She reached to turn and drop the stopper before pulling the knob that started the flow of water from the faucet. 

He appreciated the ‘take charge’ attitude and her ability to know what he wanted...what he needed...without the words ever leaving his lips. 

The pair listened in silence as the water sloshed and filled the basin. Hands on her hips, she turned to face him. “The way you’ve been holding yourself, arms wrapped around your body. The way you stared at the tub. The fact that you’re absolutely radiating...shame….” she paused, careful to continue. “Are you sure it was consensual?” her eyebrows knitted with worry.

“Wha - ? Yes. Yes!” Malcolm pushed off from the wall. “It was consensual, I swear,” he said with dead-level seriousness. 

“Then why…” she shook her head just a fraction. 

“Why the shame?” Malcolm finished for her. 

“Yes.” She shifted her weight to her other foot. “I mean...obviously you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” 

“No...I...do...want to,” he gulped, unsure of how to proceed. His eyes darted to the tub, then back to her. It was full. She followed his gaze and turned to stop the flow of water. Silence once again flooded the space around them. 

“I - uh…” he licked at his dry lips, unsure how to put into words the way he felt. It had been his first time with a man but he felt no shame in that. He recalled his feeble attempt to tell John that he was’t gay and nearly laughed. What a joke. He’d come harder than he ever had in his entire life. He felt clear attraction to the doctor. 

“Bright?” 

He blinked back to the moment. Right. The shame. 

“I-I uhm...I think if I tell you, that you’ll never speak to me again.”

“I doubt that,” she gave him a disbelieving look. “Your bath’s getting cold,” she nodded towards the tub. 

Malcolm had already been chained up in front of her. She’d seen him aroused. What was the point in hiding now? His hands went to the hem of his shirt and he dragged it upward, arms aching with the effort. The fabric got stuck around his head. She huffed out a chuckle and came forward to help him. 

They let the fabric fall to the floor. 

“I can leave if you want but I’d like to bandage up that cut,” she eyed his waist. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” he said honestly, the words ringing too painfully true and vulnerable, but he couldn’t reel them back in. She nodded and he felt a rush of gratitude. 

“The reason for the...shame…” he started again, hoping that this time he could get it out. He brought his slender fingers to his pants and began to undo them. “I - uh...the things I’m turned on by. I think you’d run away if you knew…” 

“How many times do I have to tell you that I’m not going anywhere?” 

He stepped out of his pants and wobbled dangerously. She caught him by the arms as he swayed, preventing him from falling and cracking his head against the tub. Her fingers tingled at the contact and a ripple of heat roared through her but she didn’t show it. 

“Let me help you in,” she guided him, trying to ignore her own arousal at having a very naked Malcolm Bright standing in front of her. 

“Thanks,” he stepped over the ledge and planted a solid foot in the water, then lifted his other leg to do the same. Slowly he lowered himself into the tub, her hands never leaving his arms. 

Once fully seated in the welcome warmth, he leaned his head back and sighed. Knowing his time was truly up, he lulled his head to the left and looked at her. His struggling brain came up with a thousand possible words he could say to explain, but he nixed them all. He needed to just get it out. He could tell that Dani could sense his mounting frustration. 

“He’s a doctor, John is,” he blinked slowly, not wanting to open his eyes again. “Apparently, he’s a dominant, not afraid to dole out pain. Pain that I requested. I’m a submissive,” he admitted, the biggest confession yet to come. “And when he called me...“my boy”... I came.” 

She looked confused for a moment until her expression solidified beneath the heat of dawning realization. “Isn’t that what your fath- I mean...Dr. Whitly...calls you?” 

Malcolm gulped, not at all prepared to lose his best friend; the woman he felt such admiration and attraction for. “Yes. It is.” 

“Okay,” she said after a quick beat of silence. It was as if she had made her mind up about something and was able to just...roll with this. 

He stared up at her in shock, his mouth opening and closing several times as a hundred sentence variations lived and died on his tongue before ever reaching the open air. 

“Dani…” he shook his head back and forth, feeling the back of his skull press against the hard tile behind him. “I...I am so fucked up,” he felt tears gather in his eyes. “I cut myself. I hallucinate. I have dreams - sexual dreams - about...about Martin,” the final word nearly choked him, but he pushed it out. Now that he started listing his shit, he couldn’t seem to stop. 

“I care about you so much. So much,” his voice strained with want. “But I could never expect you to want...that...anything...with me,” a hot tear rolled down his cheek. “When John...choked me...cut me...I liked it,” his voice dropped. “I liked it so much and that scares me so much. I”m broken Dani. So broken.” 

“No,” she shook her head and lowered herself to sit on the edge of the tub. “No, you’re different. But different doesn’t mean broken. You’ve been through a lot. Things are complicated.” 

“Why?” his pitch climbed too high as he broke through her assurances with the singular word. “Why aren’t I scaring you away? Is it because you think you can fix me? Am I a project? Because I’m telling you now that I can't be fixed. Believe me! Or ask my therapist,” he huffed a humorless laugh that fell bitterly against the porcelain. 

“Are you trying to scare me away?” she questioned, head tilted. 

“No,” he stared up at her with such sadness marring his beautiful features. “I’m scared to death of scaring you away. Terrified that one day I’ll wake up and you’ll just…” he stopped, more tears tracking down his reddened cheeks. She reached out and brushed them away. 

“It’s the worst thing. Knowing that you and I could never…” he turned his head away and sank lower into the tub, his knees peeking up out of the water. 

“Oh, I don’t know. Never say never,” she brought her fingers to where his hairline started at his forehead and ran them against his scalp, through the brown locks. He leaned into it with a sigh, the touch soothing away some of his broken heart. 

He did feel so much better, getting all of that off his chest. And she was still here. But would that last? Despite her promise that she wasn’t going anywhere, he couldn’t help the nagging doubt that clawed at him from the shadows of his paranoia.

God. If he lost her….

He couldn’t even bear to think about it. 

“Can I wash your hair?” she offered. 

He dragged his eyes open and nodded yes, looking at her through water-kissed lashes. She smiled at him and grabbed his shampoo.

Her fingers working against his scalp was just as good as fucking John, he realized. The act was so intimate, her attention fully focused as she delicately but deliberately cleaned him. He hated the absence of her hands once they had gone through both the shampooing and conditioning process. 

All good things come to an end and it was time for the bath to end. 

She helped him out just as she’d helped him in. As she held a towel out to him, she gave him another smile. “Thank you for being honest with me Bri-” she paused, “Malcolm,” she corrected. 

He smiled back at her, dragging the towel over his hair and then over his body. He didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered on his body before she quickly turned away. 

Forgetting about the cut, he rubbed the towel over his abdomen and then promptly hissed in pain. She spun back around out of concern. Sucking in a steadying breath she pulled her warm gaze up from the cut above his groin to his oceanic eyes. “Can I clean that out and bandage it for you?” she asked. 

“Yeah. Yes. Sure.” 

“Okay. Why don’t you dry your hair, put some pajamas on, lay down on your bed and I’ll fix you up? I’m going to get a glass of water.” 

“Sounds good.” 

She walked from the bathroom with the First Aid kit to get her water and let him dry his hair. 

Malcolm worked as quickly as he could with the hairdryer, desperate to get to bed. Which, in and of itself, was odd. All he knew was that he wanted her attention on his body, her hands on his skin, her smile aimed at him. Something about her just warmed him from the inside out. 

He made quick work of the perfunctory tasks. Hair dry. Ensure finished. Teeth brushed. Cotton pajama bottoms on. 

Exhausted, he cantered towards his bed, pulled back the sheets and slid inside, leaving the blankets peeled open so that Dani could access the cut. 

She arrived at the bedside, sitting upon it with the kit in her lap. Her fingers went to his waistband and she peeled it down. He raised his hips to make it easier.

Fuck. 

His cock was trying to twitch back to life. What was going on with his body? 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed, embarrassed, his hand pushing his half hard arousal down as he shifted. 

“It’s alright,” she rubbed at his hipbone with her thumb. 

Bright may have been tired, but he still caught the way her eyes caressed him through his pajamas. The way her breath hitched. The way her pupils dilated. She wanted him and that knowledge only made his arousal surge. But he was so tired. So fucking tired. This was not the time. 

Desperate to make that sizzling arousal abate, he tried to think of boring and horrible things. 

She got to work, pulling out items and focusing on the cut. The first thing she did was rub antiseptic over it. Bright sucked in a breath and she stopped, fearing that she’d hurt him, but that’s not what was happening; which she quickly realized. 

His breathing had sped up and a flush travelled across his chest. The pain was turning him on even more. 

She made another swipe over the cut, this time, pressing illogically hard upon the slice. Malcolm’s head went back and he whimpered a moan. Now she was the one becoming flush. She shifted where she sat, thighs pressed together for some relief, but it didn’t help much. 

Rather than either of them adress what was happening, she just continued cleaning him up, applying little butterfly bandages to hold the slice shut, then covering that with cotton, taped in place. 

“You could stay,” Malcolm offered, terrified of the possibility of rejection. 

“I - I don’t have my toothbrush or pajamas or anything,” she finished fixing him up and pulled his waistband back up, desperate for the arousal his pajamas concealed. 

“Right, right,” he shook his head. 

“You’ve been honest with me, so I’m going to be honest with you,” she started. 

He braced himself for the blow. 

“I’d very much like to stay and that’s why I can’t. There will be a time when both you and I will be fully prepared...for me to stay...and I think that we should both hang on. Wait for that moment,” she smiled. “This isn’t a rejection Malcolm.” 

He nodded and let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding in. 

She ran a hand through his hair once more after setting the First Aid kit down on the nightstand. Her hand slid down his face and he closed his eyes, enjoying the touch. He felt so good. So damn good. His ass and cock buzzed with satisfaction. His body was warm and clean. Dani hadn’t run from him in disgust. And neither had John. 

Could he be this lucky? Was this real?

He felt his arms gently moved as Dani strapped him into bed. Once he was secured, she planted a kiss on his forehead. 

“Goodnight Malcolm.” 

“Goodnight Dani.”


End file.
